Phantom of the Opera: Alternate Ending
by CopeWithTheFeels
Summary: An alternate ending for the famous story - The Phantom of the Opera. If you are an E/C shipper, or easily grossed out, don't read this please. This is my first fanfiction, and I know that I get carried away when I write, so please be gentle. I worked hard on this.


Phantom of the Opera Alternate Ending

"Why make her lie to you, to save me?" Raoul yelled, his words directed more towards Christine rather than him.

Erik's mind was racing. He has not felt so much emotion in years… Uncontrollable love and lust for Christine, and such strong hatred for Raoul.

"Past the point of no return…" Erik repeated. Oh, how he wished she would choose him, over that spoiled little brat! How much he wanted to touch her silky hair, stroke her soft, smooth, beautiful skin, and feel her breath on his cheek…

Christine looked into Erik's eyes, her own pleading him to let her lover go. And for a moment, there was no one else in the room but them. By the unfamiliar breeze he felt on his face he knew the mask was off, and yet Christine looked upon his face with no disgust. How could this be? Could it be, that Christine truly loved him? Loved him enough to look past his ugliness, and into his soul? Loved him more than his mother, who, repulsed by his looks, abandoned him?

Looking into Christine's deep eyes, Erik felt an unfamiliar sensation warm his body. Spending his whole life hating and being hated, he rarely felt such beautiful feelings, but Christine… oh Christine, she made him feel alive… almost normal!

"For pity's sake, Christine, say no!" Raoul yelled, tearing Christine's gaze away from Erik. Of course, how could Erik, for one moment, forget the presence of the Vicomte brat? He was the real problem, what stopped Erik from living a wonderful life with Christine, a life with no ugliness and hatred, full of music and joy. If only he was dead!

If only he was dead… The solution was obvious. Why had Erik not done this before? Vicomte was only causing trouble, keeping Erik and Christine from being together, being the heavy boulder tied to their necks, bringing them down… Erik's hands tightened around the rope…

Suddenly, killing Raoul seemed to be a solution to all of Erik's problems! Christine would forgive him, as Erik is the only one she truly loves… And once he has Christine, nothing else would matter. Erik was fascinated by how her beauty lightened up this ugly place he called home…

"I fought so hard to free you!" Raoul cried, and that was all that Erik needed.

To free her? To _free _her? Does the silly fool not know that the only time Christine is truly free is when she is with her Angel of Music… Does he not know that though her body may be free with him, her soul will only feel freedom and harmony when she is with Erik?

Erik, with a fast and skilled yank, tightened his Punjab lasso around Raoul's neck, and in a matter of seconds, the boy was dead.

With a triumphant look on his face, Erik turned to his love, expecting to see relief, forgiveness and admiration. Expecting her to run into his arms, embrace him, and kiss his abhorrent face... To cure his sadness with her beauty and voice… Oh her voice... the sweet sound that never fails to inspire him to create beautiful music!

Instead, what he saw was fear. Disgust. Sorrow… Her beautiful face never looked so sad and scared. Scared of… him? How could that be? He was her savior… her Angel of Music…

"How could you?" she screamed, her lips shivering. Erik was confused… Did the silly girl not see what he has done for her? What he has freed her of? "I… I… I trusted you!" her eyes were tearing up, her face crumpling, like it was going to break.

Was he doing this to her? Was it his entire fault? How could this be? Did she not see things the way he did? They were destined to a lifetime of happiness, together, and Erik did what needed to be done to ensure they were going to get it.

Christine, his beautiful, gentle Christine, was on her knees, sobbing… Her whole body shook like a delicate flower struck by merciless wind. She rocked back and forth, whispering _his _name… Oh how he despised the sound of it!

Erik was puzzled, not knowing what to do or say… He thought he had it all worked out. His plans never failed, you see, Erik has not yet known failure, and this was something new to him. Unable to react, he stood, watching his beloved Christine weep, her tears wetting the dark stone floor.

Suddenly, Christine went quiet, only hurried intakes of breath escaping her lips. Was this it? Did she realize how lucky she was? Erik's heart once more filled with hope and desire.

Christine weakly rose to her feet, stumbling a little. She took a few steps, unsure and hesitant. Erik opened his arms to her, eager to hold her, comfort her, touch her… be with her.

But oh! She turned towards Raoul's dead, motionless body, and with strange confidence in her eyes limped in his direction. She kneeled next to him, and quietly sobbing, stroked his cheek. Erik was dumbfounded… what was she doing? She could not revive the fool! He was as dead as a rock!

"Christine," Erik whispered, calling her to him, but she paid no attention. She only looked at her Raoul, touching his lifeless remains. "Christine, come to your Angel! All is over now," Erik repeated, louder now. Her head turned, and in her eyes he saw misery. Such misery that he saw in his own, when looking in the mirror without his mask on, the ugly despair that filled his soul, sucking all life out of him. Seeing such grief in Christine's eyes mystified Erik, why was his Christine mourning over the death of the idiotic, witless Chagny cretin?

Taken aback, Erik could only watch. Suddenly, Christine's hands found the Vicomte's knife. Understanding what the love of his life was about to do, Erik ran towards her, but he was too late.

With a short gasp, Christine sunk the knife deep into her tiny body. A small stain grew bigger and bigger on her chest. Christine slowly brought herself down next to Raoul, closing her eyes. She reached for his hand, but unable to move it any further rested it on his shoulder.

For a few minutes, there was only silence. Then came the piercing, blood-curdling scream. Erik shrieked, took out his knife, and repeatedly stabbed Raoul's body. He wanted revenge. He hated Raoul. He hated Christine for loving Raoul. How could she do this to him? How could she leave him?

Erik thought with the death of Raoul would come peace, but instead it brought the death of his beloved Christine. Blood drops covered Erik's face, as he pierced holes in the Vicomte's stiff body.

How unfair was life. His face was to blame. It took away all the joys a man could ask for. His face…

Time passed, and Erik sat, motionless, staring at Christine's beautiful body. Even when dead, she was such a beauty… Erik gazed at Christine, realizing that he no longer _loved_ her. Without her enchanting voice, she seemed no longer beautiful, unique…

Although the love was gone, the lust remained.

Erik dumped Raoul's corpse into the lake, and stared at Christine. Why could not he have her? She would not put up a resistance… she was dead. Bending down and kneeling next to her, Erik kissed her lips. Oh, how soft they were! Her skin was smooth, and her hair was silky… Her body called to him.

Unable to resist, Erik gave into his impulses.


End file.
